Story : Once Again, Atop the Long Mynd
Back to: Into Thin Air __TOC__ :April 19 1220 The four stood upon the greenway, looking down upon the valley and the Roman road as it ran through. They could see the Hockstow Forest off to their left, and curls of smoke from Church Stretton’s chimneys off to their right. Behind them and to the west, the Mynd rose, no longer the majestic mountain of magic, but the simple wrinkle of earth that thousands of mundane people had as their first, or last, sight in this world. Mnemosyne blew out a breath, “''Yes! We are back in the mundane world!” She turned to Magus Ambrosius, “''What does your sight reveal, Ambrosius? Any hint of the regio or an aura?” Ambrosius turned slowly around before saying, “''Nay, sister. There is nothing.” He shaded his eyes and looked back up the Long Mynd, “''How far do you think we are from the barrows?” Mnemosyne looked about, judging the distances. “''I think that, if we hurry, we could be there in perhaps 30 minutes or so, but,” she looked meaningfully at Ambrosius, “''if there is actually no need to appear to be exhausted and out of breath, I’d prefer to simply set a normal pace.” “''Certainly wise, Sodale.” He motioned up the Mynd. “''Lead on.” Once again, the four were walking, this time without the uncertainty of where their steps would take them. While they walked, Mnemosyne shared her knowledge of the properties of regios with Ambrosius, and they compared their own understanding and tried to make sense of what they had just been witness to. Every so often, Ambrosius would point out one thing or another that appeared slightly different to his magically enhanced sight than to his normal vision. As mages can often do, the became lost in the study of their experience and surroundings, the essence of their conversations, and their ruminations on how to apply their recent experience to the practice of their magic. While the conversation made the time fly by for Ambrosius and Mnemosyne, it was no balm for Geraldous or Blathmac, both of whom understood very little of the discussion. It was an hour or so after the high sun mark when the four strode arrived back at the barrow ruins. Alicia was tossing a ball of very thick leather stuffed with smooth pebbles and tied tight back and forth with Llewys, presumably as a reward for doing well on his lessons. The ball had been tied with a “tail” that allowed for different methods of throwing and catching, and Llewys was keeping himself amused but trying all of them – sometimes in the same movement. Llewys was the first to see them as they came into view. “Ambrosius!” He gave the ball a lazy toss back to Alicia as he sprinted into his brother’s waiting bear hug! “You came back!” Ambrosius set Llewys down, “I had to come back! If I didn’t, who else would you have to pick on?!” He ruffled the boy’s hair, and looked up to Alicia. At length, Mnemosyne, Ambrosius, and Geraldous related to Alicia what they had seen in the regio. She interrupted them a few times to ask clarifying questions, but Llewys interrupted a dozen times or so to ask an excited question or make an exclamation. While they talked, the four travelers ate from the stores they brought with them on the pack animals. After they’d finished eating, but before they’d finished telling their tale, and remarking on the nuances, Blathmac took to tending the animals. Mnemosyne wrapped it all up by saying, “''It is clear that this is just such a place as we were looking for, but regios can be as deadly as they are interesting. We must explore this regio further, but only with the support of our sodalaes. I suggest that we head to this ruined cottage that we’d agreed to meet at and allow Ambrosius to set about repairing the structure, while the rest of us stock it and prepare for the arrival of our brothers and sisters.” With the agreement of everyone present, the troupe set to cleaning the clearing up after themselves and putting out the small fire that had been started as they told their tale. Once done, Ambrosius recounted to Alicia and Llewys about how they’d discovered that none of the four explorers shared a language with Blathmac. With a little trial and error, Alicia was able to determine that she was able to talk to him in Welsh, though neither of them were very good in it. It was enough, though, to communicate to Blathmac that it was time for him to lead them to the ruined cottage that his master, Marcus, had indicated was somewhere on the Mynd. Home Away from Home :April 19 1220 The had ambled in a leisurely manner for ten minutes along the top of the Mynd enjoying the weather and sunlight remaining when the cottage finally came into sight. Like most buildings constructed by local people, as opposed to the visiting nobility, the house took advantage of the lay of the land, and was settled in a slight hollow which shielded it from the wind on two sides. When Marcus had said that the cottage had come to ruin, he was right, Ambrosius thought. The cottage was a burnt out husk, standing stark against the greens and grays of the Long Mynd. It was, at one time, a pleasant little cottage. A single room with a door centered between two windows, the high walls once upon a time supporting a cruck construction roof. The remains of a wooden pen along the back side of the structure could just be made out, but barely enough wood remained of the fence to discerned its purpose, and that which was there, was badly charred. The cottage, where not blackened, could be seen to be assembled from the stone of the Mynd; a green-gray lightly pitted and flecked with thousands of tiny quartz crystals and black volcanic glass. From this distance, the stone appeared to be an encroaching moss, slowly reclaiming the charred wall through a hard-won victory. To either side of the door on the front of the cottage, the windows were a gaping hole that once would have been covered shutters or, if the owner was fortunate, glass, but now stood empty and wanting. A large hearth could be seen through the door, gaping in the back wall, blackened and piled with debris. Up from the hearth, a chimney stretched to a point above the cottage’s missing roofline, it’s stones painted black with soot, but otherwise undisturbed by the blaze that claimed the remainder of the cottage. As the party entered the surrounding area, they paused to take in the scene. For Ambrosius, the place evoked a slight pang of homesickness for the cottage in which he spent what he thought of as his “tween” years, the years after Ishachus ex Miscellanea abandoned him and before Galfridus ex Verditius took Ambrosius under his creative care. It was during those years that his father died under mysterious circumstances and his mother died from illness. While this cottage held nothing but the most superficial of resemblance, Ambrosius immediately felt a need restore the structure to a glory beyond anything it had known before. Ambrosius thought to start providing suggestions on what could be done, but when he began, he discovered that the others had already taken it upon themselves to do their parts. Blathmac was already leading the animals to the rear of the building, while Alicia was stepping through the threshold to examine the inside of the building. Llewys was exploring the cottage and its surroundings with a level of enthusiasm that only a child could bring to the task, darting this way and that, into and out of the remains of the structure, over ruined fence and the rocks beyond. Mnemosyne was discussing something quietly with Geraldous which Ambrosius thought it may be the defense and safety of the cottage. Ambrosius stepped over to the Maga and her shield grog. “Sodale Mnemosyne,” he began, “I have a rather unusual request of you.” She looked at Ambrosius, eyebrow raised. “I was hoping, maga, that you would allow me to handle the restorations of the cottage and the preparations of the area to keep us for as long as it necessary.” “By all means,” she said, with an air of disinterest. Water :April 19 1220 Ambrosius, already half lost in thought over what to do with the cottage. He began walking around the cottage, eyes to the ground, mumbling to himself. He pace was slow and steady, as if he was studying the ground as he walked. He walked around the cottage, carving an imaginary circle in which the building was of center and to the south east edge of the path, the grass and weeds waving in his wake as if caught in a riptide. Twice, then three times he circled the structure, pausing to stroke his chin and look unhappily at his progress. Again he began, this time, stopping more frequently as he found himself moving too fast, or two slow. Once or twice, he stumbled, swearing under his breath in Latin. On the ninth or tenth circuit, he was nearing the end when Llewys cried out, “I found water!!” Ambrosius arms flew up in frustration and he yelled, “I can’t CONCENTRATE!!!” Llewys, who’d be running to his brother to show him this new and exciting discovery stopped short in his tracks, a look of horror on his face, tears already brimming in his eyes. Ambrosius knew immediately what he’d done, intentionally or not, and apologized, “Oh, oh, oh, little man, I am sooo sorry!” He closed the last few strides between them and wrapped Llewys in a smith’s bear hug. “I was not angry at you! I was frustrated in my own failure! I did not mean to snap at you.” He took to one knee in front of the ten year old, “Will you please forgive me, Llewys?” Llewys sniffed, wiped his nose across the wool of his shirt sleeve and nodded. “Thank you, little man.” He hugged him again. “Now, what was this about a were-bear?” Llewys giggle, despite being near tears just moments before, Ambrosius’ jape having done its job. “Not were-bear!” He slapped his big brother’s arm, “WATER!” Llewys grabbed up Ambrosius’ hand and dragged him off to an open but slanted field not too far away. He pointed excitedly at the spring bubbling up out of the ground, a decent rate of flow, forming a fair stream that headed down the slopes of the Long Mynd, no doubt to join other water flows later on. The spring was just off of the path from the cottage that crossed the greenway and joined with the path from the burway to the large mound. The ground for a good distance around the spring seemed somewhat boggy, and the small stream crossed the path before disappearing down into a small, sheer sided valley on the far side. (This area is called the devils cauldron, I believe. If the path from the burway to large mound is a trident, and the greenway is a line that crosses all three prongs just below their points, then this path is the left hand prong and the spring is halfway between the point of the left hand prong and the point where the prong joins the main shaft.) “Excellent find, Llewys!” Ambrosius said, rubbing the top of his head. “Fresh water is one of the necessities.” Ambrosius looked around and then stooped to gather some sticks or heavy grass twigs from the ground. He handed them to Llewys. “What do you say we go make a well?” Llewys took off back to the cottage without hesitating. When he and Llewys were standing just behind and ten paces or so from the side of the house (and the makeshift animal pen), Ambrosius instructed Llewys to lay the sticks out in a circle roughly 5 feet across. Ambrosius then took the tip of his staff and dragged it along the inside of the circle, speaking the words of power with power and passion. With a great grinding sound, the earth split in a star shaped pattern, six points touching where Llewys had lain his sticks and Ambrosius had dragged his staff. Back and back, the eath pressed, opening a hole in the ground 5 feet wide and ten feet deep. The sides and bottom of the hole were near perfection in their smoothness, the dull sheen of a polished stone where it had compressed against itself to bid the mage’s commands. When the noise abated, Llewys looked up at his brother, smiling. Ambrosius returned the smile, “Ok, now we need the return feed. Go back to the spring and stand downstream from it, about ten paces. Llewys did as he was bid, and soon enough, Ambrosius was casting again. And again, there was the sound of complaint earth as it moved, smaller this time, forming a pipe about 12 inches across and starting just below the lip of the well, and heading straight as an arrow to where Lewys stood, opening a foot wide hole beneath his feet, right abreast of the creek bed. Ambrosius motioned for Llewys to move to the head of ths stream. Once more, he called the magic, strong and passionately. This time, a hole appeared at the very bottom of the well and shot out, underground and out of sight, to the source of the stream. The sound of the earth moving aside was slightly less yet again, as the deeper sound could not be head as well. Almost immediately, as the sound of the changing earth ceased, a burbling sound could be heard, and water began flowing into the well. After five minutes, the water approached the upper lip, but instead, flowed out through the top pipe back to the creek bed, where is resumed its path down the Mynd. Fire :April 19 1220 The brothers watched in satisfaction as the crystal clear water ran through the well. “All that is left is to ensure the water is healthy, but perhaps I can ask Maga Mnemosyne to do that.” Ambrosius paused and looked around, his trouble with the ring forgotten. Thinking to provide a challenge he switched to Latin, “So, what is next, little brother? What else need we have for our survival?” Llewys’ eyes betrayed how hard he was working to translate the dead language. “We have water,” he replied, also in Latin. “We already have food,” he shot a look at his brother’s face, and realized where he was being lead. “That’s a comfort!” he said, switching back to English. “Food doesn’t have to be cooked!” Ambrosius smiled, “Ah, but fire is not only for cooking food, my friend. It will get very cold up here on the Mynd. Fire will be our warmth. Where shall we place a fire, brother?” Llewys smiled and ran off back towards the cottage, Ambrosius walking along after him. He caught up to Llewys in the house, where he stood in front of the oversized hearth. The hearth was half the width of the back of the cottage, and built of a smooth, black-and-gray swirled stone, cut into irregular blocks by some unknown hand. They were stacked well enough to have stood the test of time, and it looked as if the test had been brutal. Much of the hearth and chimney were black and soot covered from the fire that claimed the cottage, and that which wasn’t was being overrun by the fine green-gray moss that was growing on much else. “Wow…” Llewys looked up at the hearth’s broad opening. It was filled with debris from the destruction and burning of the cottage, and would clearly take a fair bit of work to restore from its current state. Llewys looked at his bother expectantly. “What can I do? Do you want me to move anything out of the way? Can I hold your staff while you cast your magic?” Ambrosius looked at his brother mischievously, and said, “Sure!” He handed the staff to the lad and turned back to the hearth. He began his casting, using great swings of the arms and a loud voice. Just as he finished up his spell, he turned to Llewys and touched the top of the tall walking staff. A spiral of mystical energy ran down the staff glittering wildly in the shadows of the ruined cottage. As it passed over the carved oak of the staff, the wood was transformed, thinned and smoothed just slightly. As the magic passed the bottom tip of the staff, a hundred or so twigs of straw burst forth from the wood and began to form themselves into the business end of a working broom. Lllewys looked at the new broom in his hand, stupefied. “What’s this for?” he queried. “Too clean the hearth with, of course.” “But…but…you can just make it all clean!” Ambrosius nodded. “I can, but the work is good for you, and it will help keep you out of trouble.” Llewys began to object even more, but Ambrosius held up his hand to put a stop to protestations. “The magic I use is the result of many years of hard work and training for a profession. I use magic just as I a hammer and anvil, or a knife and whetstone. I use it because I am skilled at it.” He paused to kneel down to Llewys’s level. “You must still learn a life skill, my friend. I don’t know what skill yet, but soon we must choose. Until then, you must learn how to work, and work hard.” He stood back up. “Now, you get everything swept and gathered into a pile and I shall help you get rid of it. But while you work, I am going to rest a moment, and then go speak with the Maga Mnemosyne.” Ambrosius left Llewys to the task of cleaning out the hearth and took to resting his eyes for a few minutes, propped up in the corner of the old cottage. Most of the spells he’d performed since arriving here had been without expending any fatigue, but that trick turning the staff into a broom for the remainder of the day took a little bit out of him. He’d been listening to Llewys as he worked the “mystic” broom to clean out the hearth. Once it was all done, and only the soot was left, he’s see about casting some Perdo to dispose of it all, but truth be told, Ambrosius was neither very good with Perdo, nor very comfortable with it. It was mankind’s task to create, he believed. Granted, sometime that creation required tearing something down, or even burning it – but when Perdo magic was employed, there was no giving back – no return deposit of raw material. Anything that is victim to Perdo simply ceased to exist, and that bothered him a great deal. Yet the boy with the broom worked without such knowledge or concerns – he was wholly unburdened by the burdens that education and training bring. Would that he could remain that way for many years to come…but that was not to be, he knew. Ambrosius was not very skilled at sensing the gift, and would nto be able to pick a potential apprentice out of a crowd, but he knew that there was something special about Llewys; he just didn’t know what yet. Eventually, soon he feared, he would have to take Llewys to task and help him find a path in life. Right now, though – he was content to sit and listen to his younger brother, the only family he had in this world, while he swept out the hearth. Feeling rested, he quietly left Llewys to sweeping and sought out Maga Mnemosyne. Cooperation :April 19 1220 Ambrosius moved over to where Mnemosyne was perched on a rock, scribbling in her journal, "''Pardon me, Maga. Have you a moment?" Mnemosyne looks up from her writing and closes her journal. "What can I do for you, sodale?" "Umm, A couple things, actually." He glanced over his shoulder. "Llewys and I have set up a well for all of us to, ah, use during our stay here, and I was wondering if you might examine the water for purity and any other properties we may...have need to know of." "Water?" she asked. "Surely you have a greater knowledge of that element than me?" Ambrosius nodded, "I am pretty familiar with it, sodale, but I lack a decent understanding of, um, Intellego, that I think would be most beneficial to the investigation." Mnemosyne waved her hand back and forth in a see-saw fashion. "My intellego is only slightly better than my aquam, I am afraid. My parens had rather... specialized ideas about tuition." "Ah. I, ummm...see." "Fear not..." she put in. "I shall do my part when the time comes... We shall no doubt need some mundane craftsmen and I shall make sure that they are willing and... motivated." A look of concern briefly crossed Ambrosius' face, but he controlled it quickly. He hoped it was quickly enough to prevent Mnemosyne from noticing. "I will do what I can, then, um, maga. "The other thing...This cottage - did you, ah, by any chance, discuss it in any more detail with sodale Marcus before we departed?" Ambrosius asked hopefully. "I am afraid not... I must admit, I was more interested in the more unusual features than the mundane." Ambrosius smiled, "I understand - I was the same way." He paused, "The amount of space this building provides, well, it's barely enough floor space for us five. When other arrive, we will quickly be overwhelmed. "I am planning some, um, expansions, but am a little hesitant because we do not understand the, ah, position of ownership or occupation rights here." "Do you know, maga, if I make these changes, and we loose or fair to obtain permission to use this cottage, am I in danger of violating any aspect of the Code of Hermes?" Mnemosyne considered carefully for a while. "I think not. The cottage appears to be abandoned and as long as we act in good faith and fairly with any claimant which may arise, we should be on good ground." "Excellent! Then tomorrow, we'll see about a permanent roof and come up with a bit more space. "Most industrious of you, good Ambrosius. Please do not hesitate to enlist my help if you think my meager skills can be of aid... I am afraid I tend more to the mentem arena though." Ambrosius chuckled, "You know, sodale...I don't know how your arts and mine could be more different. Yet, here we are, seeking to build a life with five other magi and create a covenant. Perhaps fate has a sense of humor." Mnemosyne smiled warmly. "Well, differences provide for very useful opportunities. I am sure that together our individual strengths shall overcome our weaknesses." Ambrosius looked skyward, "I will soon be getting dark, maga. I hope to have a temporary roof in place as soon as the sun sets, and then I shall try to provide a light source for you in the cottage, if you'd like to continue," he mentioned to the journal she'd be writing in, "your, um, labors in there. Also..." "...the work on fixing the roof tomorrow will require a bit of manual labor. Might I have use of Geraldous for the duration, please?" "By all means." She waved her hand negligently. "Be sure to ask him in the right way though. He is a warrior and while he is most helpful, it is not good to sting such a man's pride. As for the light, please do not worry on my account. Early to bed is early to rise... or something." Ambrosius bowed his head cordially, "I understand completely, again. Thank you for your time, Maga." "Think nothing of it." It did not take long for Ambrosius to find Geraldous, walking around the head of the small valley that sheltered the cottage, checking the views, and likely routes of approach to the cottage. "Excuse me, Geraldous? Do you have a minute?" Ambrosius said, in English. Geraldous replied, pleasantly enough "Certainly good sir. Would you walk with me while I continue to check the area, or would you have me go somewhere with you?". "I would be pleased to walk the grounds with you, Geraldous." Ambrosius matched pace with the Sergeant as he circumnavigated the area. "Geraldous, as you know, magic is capable of a great many things, but sometimes there is no substitute for, ahhhh, hard work." Ambrosius stepped over a rock outcropping. "Tomorrow, I hope to be forming the tiles for a domed roof from the stones scattered about. To lay it and shape it, though, I will need a keen eye married to a strong back. While Blathmac may very well have those, the, uh, language barrier would make it difficult to do the detailed work the dome will need. I was hoping that you would lend me your back and eye tomorrow so we might put the dome together and get a firm, solid and permanent roof over our heads." Ambrosius looked Geraldous in the eye, "I know the work is not your standard fare, and that it could be considered below your station, but I hope you will lend me your help." "Hard work is no problem, and I suspect I'll be more use than you for climbing and lifting things into position. As to Blathmac, he's a sturdy enough fellow, and we'll have him workking, even if it's just to lift and hold." Geraldous looked puzzled for a moment, before continuing "I'm worried by your domed roof though. The only place I've seen those was in the Levant, on their square houses there, and the tales there said they were made of mud, and stood only as the place was dry. Do you not think it will look odd on a cottage such as that?" He pointed down the valley at the remains of the cottage. "Stone flags are more the way for our weather. The other worry I have is for timbers. The old joists are well burned away - can you form replacements for these too?" Ambrosius' raised his eyebrows, and barked a laugh in surprise. "I'm sorry Geraldous. The soldiers at my old covenant always were treated as walking weapons! Your questions are," he paused, looking for the right word, "refreshing!" He smiled widely and said, "You are right to ask these questions, and they are good ones. You see, the plan I've come up with is based partially on my training with shapes and how they fit together, and the, uh, limitations of magic." Ambrosius paused again, walking beside the soldier, thinking. When it seemed that he was not going to speak again, he began, "You see, I can summon timbers, fully formed, out of thin air, but if I were to do so, they would only last a certain amount of time, called a "tentatio" in the Latin. The timbers would be an item of "creo" and would have a "tentatio". But when I take something that already exists, like these rocks, well, I can shape and form them, and the changes I make are "diuturnus", or lasting a very long time. "So around us, we have no timber, but we have a great deal," he stubbed his toe...again, "TO MUCH...of this rock. So, I will make use of the materials on hand to put a roof over our head. I hope to create, "creo", a wooden form for the dome and then "rego", or control the rock's shape, in such a way that they will fit together as pieces of a dome. It is my hope that we can get most, if not all fo the work done tomorrow, before the wooden form disappears. There is a great deal left to do - rings to form and rooms to make, and what not, and I want to try and take care of the most pressing needs first." He paused again, stepping through the short, rough turf of the Mynd side. "It will look strange, and we'll have ta reinforce the walls, a bit, now matter how light I make the stones, I'm sure. But we have a relatively urgent need now, and there's no time ta go and buy the materials to do this the normal way, I don't think, do you?" "I see what you mean, or at least I think I do, and I agree, we need a solution now that does not involve buying timbers for rafters and joists. " Geraldous replied. "Still, I have one question. The cottage is not square, so a dome will not fit evenly on the walls, and if it is distorted it will not be as strong, and will be far harder to shape accurately. Perhaps it should be a barrel roof, running along the cottage, the way the Normans build the vaults of their churches?" Ambrosius nodded in agreement, "That is an excellent idea, Geraldous. That might also allay another your other concern about looking so very out of place. Norman construction is strange, yes, but not unheard of." He paused, then continued "I don't understand the magic of how you will make it, but tales I have heard say their masons work much this way, hidden under temporary roofs and behind scaffolds so that we may not see their work, but it is said they build over a wooden arch which can be moved along as they work, and removed once the work is done, leaving the roof floating above it. I think that fits your need." "Very good indeed." Ambrosius stopped and turned to Geraldous. We shall get started in the morning. As soon as sun sets, I've got some temporary provisions to set up. Now, though, I'll go check on Llewys' progress with the hearth." He began to walk away, but stopped and turned, "Thank you, Geraldous." With that, he headed back int he direction of the cottage. Ambrosius felt pleased with where the efforts to restore the cottage were going, and was in a good mood as he worked with Llewys to dispose of the ash and debris from the hearth. In the process of cleaning the detritus, Llewys had uncovered a strip of iron that was probably used on the head of a spade. Ambrosius guessed it was probably used to collect peat to burn on the colder nights. There was also a sturdy stick that, despite the scorched end, seemed fairly whole – perhaps it was green and had been used as a poker? There was no easy way to tell, and it was nothing that Ambrosius was going to invest any energy in discovering without more cause. By the time he and Llewys finished up, the sun was setting, which was exactly what Ambrosius had been waiting for. On the morrow, he, Llewys, Geraldous and Blathmac would be putting in a more permanent roof, but they would need some shelter tonight, and Ambrosius knew that any spell he cast with the duration of sun would be undone, if that was in its nature, at the sunset. In order to provide temporary shelter, he would want to wait until after sundown, so whatever he created would last until sunrise. While Llewys when to get some candles from their stores, Ambrosius began conjuring. First he set about creating a large piece of sail cloth to use as a temporary roof. A long wooden pole would serve to keep any moisture from pooling in the middle of the cloth. Next, he filled the windows with conjured glass, and the door with one conjured out of magic. He attached the door to the empty hinges and made sure that it shut. It was not a perfect fit, but it would do for the night, that was certain. Finally, he set about scratching a circle into the floor, and around the fireplace. Casting twice, Ambrosius was finally able to make firewood appear. He asked Llewys to set the wood in the hearth for a fire, which the boy did with gusto. Leaning down, Ambrosius caused the logs to catch aflame with a touch. Ambrosius looked around satisfied. He had some larger plans in mind for this little cottage while he and the other mages found and constructed a new home, but for now…on this first night, it would do, and do well. ---- Continued Next page: The old stone cottage rebuilt. ---- Category:1220 1220Q2 12200419 Category:Ambrosius Category:Mnemosyne Category:Geraldous Category:Alicia Category:Llewys Category:Blathmac